Adrift
by Myth Queen
Summary: A young Arwen gets lost while travelling back to Rivendell after a visit to Lothlórien and meets an elf from Elrond's past who takes care of her until he can take her home. A similar story had been written by Marvel Tolkien Fangirl, you should have at look at hers too!


**A/N: So this is a bit of a strange one, because I was chatting with Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl and I came up with this idea for a short one-shot fic where Arwen gets lost and Maglor finds her, and we both loved it so much that we each wrote our own version!**

**Also, many, many thanks to Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl who helped with the translations.**

**Ada – Papa**

**Adar – father**

**Nana – Mama**

**Naneth – Mother**

**tithen pen – little one**

**tithen muinthel – little sister**

**A'mael hervess – beloved wife**

**...**

**And another note, since Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl had to explain it to me, but a 20 year old Elf is the equivalent of a 7-8 year old human. This is important.**

**...**

Arwen wrapped her arms around herself, staring up at the sky. Snow fell on her silver-blue hood, soaking it through to her raven tresses. She had heard Ada telling Nana that the winter seemed to be coming early, but there were still flowers on the ground. Arwen hadn't expected to see snow. She shivered, hunching her shoulders, and continued walking through the pine forest. She tried not to let herself be scared by the darkness that was increasing behind the clouds in sky.

There was the sound of something moving in the bushes, and Arwen stopped.

"Ada?" she called, hoping to hear her father's voice reply.

But he didn't. The sounds of movement ceased for a moment, and then start towards her. Panic overwhelmed her and she was frozen to the spot. The stories of orcs that she sometimes heard ran through her mind. Her heart pounded and her eyes went wide. But it wasn't a sharp-toothed goblin that came through the trees. It was an elf.

He looked down at her with a puzzled frown on his face. "What are you doing out here on your own, tithen pen?"

Arwen was so relieved that she began to cry. The elf shook his head as he looked at her. He took off his own cloak and wrapped it around her.

"Come, you need to get out of this cold," he said, picking her up.

"I didn't mean to get lost," Arwen said, wiping at her tears as the elf carried her through the forest.

"You will be all right. It's too close to night now to find your kin, but in the morning I will take you home. What is your name?"

"Arwen."

The elf stopped walking and looked down at her. "Arwen? You are the daughter of Elrond and Celebrían of Rivendell, aren't you?"

Arwen nodded. She studied the elf as he started walking again. His eyes were grey, with deep lines at the corners. His hair was light brown, fading to grey at parts. His clothing was rough, but thick and warm. The garb of a traveller.

"Your face is sad," she said after a moment.

The elf looked down at her again, a little surprised. "You are an observant little elf-maiden. Most children of your size are not so somber in mind."

"I am twenty years old," Arwen replied, slightly offended at the elf's tone.

He laughed then. "And quite a grown-up twenty-year-old you are! Here, we can stay here for tonight. Sit quietly while I start a fire."

The elf set her on a fallen log in a little hollow that was sheltered from the wind. She pulled the cloak around her tighter and shivered. The strange, sad elf was quick to start a fire, and Arwen gratefully held her hands out to the warmth.

"Well then, Arwen. How is it that Elrond's daughter is lost in the woods so far from her home? It will take a half-day to get to Rivendell from here."

Arwen scooted closer to the fire. "We were coming home from Lothlórien, and I saw some flowers in the forest. Nana said that she already missed the flowers that her Naneth grows, and so I decided to gather some for her when we stopped for our noon meal. I guess I just forgot to look where I was going."

"Don't cry, Arwen," the elf said, sitting beside her and pulling her close to his side.

Arwen wiped at her eyes again. "You haven't told me your name."

The elf looked at her for a moment, looking uncertain. "They call me the harpist in some parts."

"Harpist?" Arwen giggled. "That is a funny name."

Harpist smiled at her. "It is, isn't it?"

"Why do they call you that?"

"Let me show you." The elf reached into a leather bag that Arwen hadn't noticed. He brought out a beautiful little golden harp. He tuned the instrument, plucking at the strings, and Arwen noticed that his right hand was claw-like, his fingers bent and stiff. Without thinking, Arwen put her hand over his. He jerked away from her as though her touch had burned him. She withdrew, a little frightened my his sudden movement.

"What's wrong with your hand?"

Harpist stiffened. He didn't look at Arwen for a long moment. "I... injured it, long ago."

Arwen's brow furrowed as she contemplated Harpist, who, looking at her, smiled sadly. Carefully, he tugged his glove off and showed her the hand. It was blackened, the color of a dead fire, curled in slightly on itself. The young elf recoiled from the sight. She pulled the cloak tighter.

"I once thought something belonged to me that I had no right to touch, let alone claim. This is the least of the pains I suffered trying to get it." Harpist lapsed into silence, staring at the flickering fire for a moment before attempting a smile at Arwen. "But enough of this sad talk! I haven't told you why they call me Harpist!"

He turned back to his little harp, and began to pluck at the strings. Arwen liked the sound.

"I have never heard a harp played so beautifully," she murmured, the beauty of the music making her eyes water again.

"I used to be much more skilled than I am now. You should try to sleep, Arwen, daughter of Elrond."

Arwen lay down next to the fire, propping her head on her arms with Harpist's cloak tucked in tight around her. Her eyes felt heavy as she listened to the music. "Can you sing me a song?" she asked quietly.

The was a slight hesitation in the music, and then the melody changed to one that was familiar to Arwen. She smiled and closed her eyes, snuggling against the Harpist's side as he sang softly.

"A Elbereth Gilthoniel,

Silivren penna miriel

O menel aglar elenath,

Na-chaered palan diriel

O galadhremmin ennorath

Nef aear, sí aearon,

Fanuilos, le linnathon

Nef aear, sí aearon!"

"My Ada sings that song to me when I can't sleep," she murmured.

"I used to sing it to him, little Evenstar," the Harpist replied softly, and then began to sing again. Feeling safe and warm, Arwen drifted into sleep.

#

Elrond looked up at the sky as the snow started to fall and his fears increased. Winter was early. He turned to Celebrían. Her eyes were red and she has her arms wrapped around herself. She was thinking of the same thing he was. Arwen was so small, so susceptible to the cold. There were even orcs whom occasionally still roved over the land.

"I will find her," Elrond promised his wife as he swung up onto his horse.

"My lord Elrond, it will be too dark soon to find her trail," a nearby elf protested, but Elrond had already turned his horse to the path leading out of Rivendell, flanked by his twin sons Elladan and Elrohir.

The company had reached Rivendell before they realised that Arwen was missing. Each member of the family had thought that she travelled with somebody else. As Elrond urged his horse to go faster, he felt the cold biting into his ears. The snow increased, and his fear increased again. How could he find Arwen in the dark, with snow falling to the ground?

#

It was not yet morning when Arwen woke. The fire had died down to coals, and while the cloak around her was warm, her nose was cold. Harpist still sat next to her, a block of wood in his hands as he carefully carved it with a knife. He held the wood in his crippled hand, wielding his knife with the other. He looked down at her as she stirred.

"I'm a little cold," she said, trying to wrap herself up more.

Harpist chuckled and set aside his carving. He tucked the cloak in around her and added a few logs to the fire. "I have forgotten how cold children can get. You are like your father in that way, Arwen. Is that better?"

Arwen nodded.

"Good. Try to sleep."

But Arwen wasn't tired anymore. She lay still for a moment, and then, clutching the cloak around her, climbed into Harpist's lap. The small elf curled against him and put her head on his shoulder. He smiled at her. "What else happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said that your hand was the least of your hurts. What else happened to make you so sad?"

Harpist's smile faded and he shook his head. "Ah, tithen pen, you are too young for such a story!"

Arwen folded her arms. "I am not so little! I can ride a horse all by myself now, you know. Ada says that I am quite the young lady."

Harpist laughed. It was a rough laugh, as though he hadn't had much use for it for a long time. He fondly smoothed her raven-black hair from her forehead. "Oh, you are your father's daughter, aren't you?"

Arwen didn't understand the question. "Of course I am."

Harpist laughed again. "I knew your father when he was your age, Arwen. You are very much like him." The laughter died away and the older elf looked sad again. He pulled his glove back on over his crippled hand. "You never knew your father's brother, did you?"

"Elros?" Arwen questioned. At Harpist's nod, she shook her head. "Ada gets sad when he talks about Elros. Nobody will tell me why."

Harpist smiled at her, but it was a sad smile. "What does your Ada tell you about the times before you were born?"

"I have never asked him." Arwen folded her hands in her lap, and then, so that the older elf wouldn't think her a child, she added, "I know that his Naneth and Adar are in Valinor with the Valar. They fought against an enemy whose name we do not say, and Ada fought, too. I heard Elladan and Elrohir talking about it once, before they shooed me away."

"Elladan and Elrohir. Your brothers?"

Arwen nodded. "They said that Ada was a mighty warrior."

"I think your father would rather be known as a mighty healer, rather than a warrior. But it has been so long since last we spoke... How can I know him?"

"Maybe you can come live at Rivendell."

Harpist looked surprised at the suggestion. "No, little Evenstar. I cannot bear to live in a place such as your home."

Arwen frowned, sitting up straighter. "Why not? It's beautiful!"

"That is why. Beauty is one thing that pains me to my core."

"I don't understand."

"And I hope that you never do." Harpist looked at the sky. "Dawn is approaching. See? The sky is beginning to lighten. If I carry you, we will be able to reach your home before midday. Will you be warm enough without a fire?"

Arwen, brightened by the prospect of seeing Ada, Nana, Elladan and Elrohir again, nodded eagerly. Harpist set her aside and put out the fire. He put his carving into his leather bag and then, making sure she was wrapped up tight in the cloak, picked up the small elf. He cradled her against his chest, and she put her head on her shoulder. She was getting sleepy again.

"Your Ada will be looking for you," he murmured as he started to walk. "But it will be quicker to Rivendell by paths that horses cannot take."

"You should stay in Rivendell. I know Ada would like it," Arwen said, yawning widely. She snuggled deeper into Harpist's arms and closed her eyes.

#

It was late in the day after Arwen's disappearance when Elrond returned to Rivendell. He and his sons had searched fruitlessly for the night and half the day before a rider came from Rivendell to tell them that Arwen had returned safely. Elrond had pushed his horse harder than what was normal, but as he dismounted and ran into the Last Homely House, all he could think about what that his little girl was home.

Elladan and Elrohir followed close behind, and they quickly found Arwen and Celebrían in Arwen's room. They were sitting near the fire. Arwen jumped to her feet and ran into her father's arms when he entered, squealing happily.

"Are you all right?" Elrond asked, releasing her so that he could quickly examine the state of her health. Arwen nodded, and nothing seemed to be wrong with her, so Elrond hugged her again. Elladan and Elrohir both tousled her hair, laughing in relief.

"You gave us all quite the scare, tithen muinthel!" Elladan said. "We thought for certain that you were orc-bait!"

"Elladan," Celebrían rebuked mildly as she joined them. "She's had enough of a scare already."

"Of course, Naneth. I'm sorry, Arwen," Elladan replied.

"You should be," Elrohir said in a scolding voice. With a smile he tweaked his sister's nose. "It's a good thing there aren't any trolls running around like the used to, though!"

"I wasn't scared at all," Arwen protested as Celebrían frowned at her eldest brother. "I was a little bit at the beginning, but then an elf found me. He gave me his cloak so that I wouldn't be cold and he stayed with me all night. He sang me the song that you sing to me, Ada, and he played a harp. He called himself Harpist. He called me Evenstar. I liked that."

Elrond picked up Arwen and carried her back over to the fire, where the family sat down. "Tell me what happened," Elrond said softly.

As Arwen told them about her adventure, Elrond felt his heart constrict with pain. Arwen snuggled against his shoulder, beaming as she talked, with occasional sharp replies to her brother's teasing comments. By the time she got to the end of her story, and told about how the mysterious Harpist had left her at start of the path to Rivendell, he knew whom she was talking about. He glanced at Celebrían and wasn't surprised to see that she was looking at him with knowing eyes.

"Elladan, Elrohir," she said to the twins. "Will you sit with your sister for a moment?"

"I'm fine, really, Nana," Arwen protested. "And I won't wander off again."

"I know, tithen pen, but I'm sure that your brothers want to tell you how worried they were."

Arwen allowed herself to be shifted to Elrohir's lap, and then Elrond and Celebrían walked out to the corridor. Celebrían glanced at their children to make sure that their attention was diverted.

"You think it was Maglor?"

Elrond nodded once. "I thought that he had perished long ago."

Celebrían took his hands in hers. "Arwen is safe now. Go."

"If Maglor wanted my company, he would have sought me out. He chose his life of exile, Celebrían. He does not wish to see me."

"Elrond, you are the wisest elf I know, other than my mother and father, and-"

Elrond chuckled softly and kissed the tip of her nose. "A'mael hervess, I know that you never say anything without a purpose."

Celebrían cupped her husband's face in her hands. "Has it not occurred to you that perhaps there is nothing that your foster-father wants more than to see you again, but for shame he cannot face you? Or for fear?"

"Why would he fear me?"

"He would fear that you have never forgiven him."

Elrond smiled sadly. "I am not sure that I have. If it were not for his actions, I would have known my mother, and perhaps my father. Perhaps Elros would have chosen differently."

"Elrond, I know your heart," Celebrían said softly. "Go."

Elrond hesitated a moment longer, until Celebrían gently pushed at him. She smiled, and he nodded. Quickly he went back to the stables and found his horse.

"Will you forgive me one last flight this day?" he asked the animal, who snorted and nodded its head. Murmuring a quick thanks, Elrond mounted and headed out again. He quickly reached the place where Maglor had left Arwen. Dismounting, he searched the area, finding a set of footprints in the snow, winding back into the forest. Elrond instructed his horse to stay, and then began following the tracks as quickly as he could.

He came very suddenly upon a small clearing, where the traces of a fire were still warm in the snow. There were no tracks leading away, other than the ones that he had followed. Elrond looked around, hoping to see something in the trees that would direct him where to go next.

"Maglor!" he shouted. "Maglor!"

But there was no response. Elrond's heart sank. He stood for a moment longer, waiting, hoping. Silence was the only reply he received. Head hanging, he turned away and spied something near the fire. Picking it up, he saw that it was a small, delicately carved harp. Turning it over in his hands, he spotted runes carved into the harp's edge.

"Arwen Undómiel," he read softly. A tear slid down his cheeks, and he pocketed the small harp. He looked around once more, and then turned back to Rivendell.

**...**

**The translation of the song that Maglor sings is as follows:**

**'O Star-queen Star-kindler,**

**Glimmering white, sparkling like jewels**

**the glory of the heavens slides down from the firmament.**

**Having gazed afar at the distance**

**from tree-tangled lands of Middle-earth**

**on this side of the ocean, here, great ocean**

**Fanuilos, I will sing to you**

**On this side of the ocean, here, great ocean!'**

**Well, I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to check out Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl's interpretation!**


End file.
